With his own hands he served her, talking inconsequently, content just to gaze upon her roseate presence. And Ahalya, who had been wont to enjoy this patent adoration, sat wondering at herself that it had become painful to her. She strove well to conceal her feeling, not knowing what to make of it. And she ate, smiled, and praised the food and wine, but could think of nothing else to say. She was dreading the time that was coming; but she could not put it off. When both had eaten enough, and when another jar of Persian wine had been opened for the Rajah’s use, and Ahalya had washed her hands in a silver basin filled with rose-water, Rai-Khizar lay back on his cushions, called the Ranee to his side, and began tenderly:
“Thou’rt glad, beloved of mine, that I am returned to Mandu?”
Ahalya sighed. “I am glad,” she answered. “Oh—the days have been dreary! The weeks would not pass. Loneliness hath killed my soul. Hath my lord ever dreamed of the sadness of women’s lives when they are left alone in the zenana?”
Rai-Khizar laughed, misunderstanding her words; but Ahalya flushed with anger that he mocked her earnestness. Seeing her expression, his changed at once. Laying one hand on hers, he said, gently:
“Thou hast been lonely, beautiful one? Tell me of it.”
“How can I tell thee, who hast not been a woman? There are we left, day after day, hating and hated by those with whom we live. And we must dress and powder and perfume, eat, drink, sew, and be content that we have beds to sleep on by night and a prison to house us by day. If I leave the palace and wander abroad in the fields, under the bright sun, the women chatter and the slaves stare, and bearers must be at my heels to carry me if I tire. I cannot sleep away my days. Rather I would live like the Vaisya women, who are free to labor, and laugh, and grow hungry and weary with their toil. The monotony, the idleness of my life, kills my soul! It is for this I danced the poppy dance. It is for this I sometimes sit for hours in the old, ruined temple of Surya, watching the monkeys play in the cotton trees. It is for this I shout and sing and tear to pieces my silken garments, and break the ivories you bring me from the south. For I am not of Hindoo blood. My mother came from free Iran, and I am also of that race. And here, in this sleepy indolence, I suffer—I stifle—I die! There! Is it enough? Have I told thee?”
She stopped, hot and eager with the feeling of her speech, to find Rai-Khizar staring at her with troubled eyes. He gave her a long and close scrutiny; and when he spoke it was only to say, in a quiet tone: “Thou wilt do well to crush this spirit, Ahalya. I cannot make thee a man;—nor would I if I could. Therefore, being a woman, thou must be protected as one. Speak of this no more. Nay, listen, and I will tell thee of our campaign, of the battle on the plain of Dhár, and of these men of the west that are worthy warriors. Thou knowest, Ahalya, that, hundreds of seasons ago, there came, over the snow-clad mountains of the north, a great host, led by one called Mahmoud of Ghazni. They came, in the name of their one God, to conquer our country; and though many hundreds of times Indians and Rajputs drove them back, they have persevered, and are now masters of the north and east. In Lahore, their kings have ruled for generations; and now a slave sits on the throne of the new Kingdom of Delhi.[2] And out of Delhi a fresh horde has come for the conquest of Malwa. Beyond the walls of Dhár we met them in battle; and, by Indra and Vishnu, we routed them well! I have brought back in my train the nephew of their leader; and I think it will be long ere Omar crosses the Vindhyas to get him back!”
“Thou hast brought home the nephew of their leader! What glory for thee! Is he to be ransomed?”
[2] Aybek, a slave of Mahommad-Ghori, founded the present Kingdom of Delhi.
“No, by my life! I like the fellow, and I have made him my cup-bearer. He pleases me with his manner. He is like thee:—rebellious. Why, look you, on the first night of his captivity he slept in one of my rooms here—would not go into the house of slaves, and so put me to the blush for asking a prince to demean himself, that I have granted him a bed in one of the antechambers near my sleeping-room. Also, yesterday, at the noon meal, he ceased to fill my cup after the second jar was empty. I asked him why he failed in his duty, and he answered that he did not fail, but was, rather, careful of my welfare:—that the gods had made kings to be examples to their people; and that a drunken king bred drunkenness in his subjects!”